You think you are so great, and so full of hate,
But you have no power against my strong tower;
You fool with cool words of pretended wisdom,
And imprison with your lies and cries of fame
And blame the innocent, and shame to tears,
Spreading all fear over the masses who bypass
Joy and peace and everlasting lease on life;
Your game is up; you’ve been tamed in chains,
As lightning flashes pierce your black night
And dispel your pathetic plight in the light
Of truth that triumphs o’er the cauldron sight!
Who are you, anyway, to say you know the way?
Who are you to hold the pen of poet in sin?
Who are you to move the fine brush of artist
And make the stageplay blush in hush of shame?
For there is an Artist who painted the skies
Without tainted creativity; the Maestro who
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